


Sleepless nights

by myrobotheart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrobotheart/pseuds/myrobotheart
Summary: Red and Lizzie on the run. AU during season 3.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at fanfic and I’m just so in love with reading everyone’s lovely lizzington stories during the hiatus, so I started writing and this is what happened. I’d love to keep going. ALSO PLEASE EVERYONE NEVER STOP WRITING, my fluffy romantic heart thanks you.

It was always the same for him. No matter what happened, he would always protect her. Though he had felt anger – fury even – at some of her actions in the past, he had never been disappointed in her. Could never be disappointed in her. Now that he’d had the chance to work with her, become close to her, he couldn’t bear to think of a time when he might not be able to do these things. But at the same time, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to be able to hide his feelings. Sometimes, he couldn’t even remember why he would ever want to. All he wanted was to keep her safe, his Lizzie. And his love? Well, that would have to wait. There was no other option.

  


-

  


“Reddington, I’m not sure why you feel this disguise is necessary- surely no one is keeping that close an eye on us now that we’re in a different state?” 

  


Lizzie was speaking to him through the door to her motel room, where she had just donned the outfit they’d haphazardly pieced together from discount stores along the highway. It included a nondescript grey hoodie, and a pair of non-prescription glasses. She glanced uncertainly at herself in the mirror.

  


“Lizzie, there are eyes everywhere; it’s only a matter of time before they catch sight of us. The least we can do is to look moderately different to our usual selves.” Red himself was wearing a zippered jacket over a t-shirt and jeans, a far cry from his typical three-piece suit. He glanced up from the table as she entered the room, and for a split second before he could catch himself, his eyes widened. How it was possible for her to appear radiant in a sweatshirt was beyond his comprehension. 

  


She looked over at him, a millisecond after he had regained composure. “Well?” She arched an eyebrow, nearly making him lose it again. He swallowed, tilted his head. 

  


“Don’t forget the hat.” He reached across the table where a ball cap sat, taking it in hand and standing up. Walking across the room to where Lizzie was standing with an amused look, he  lifted a few strands of hair away from her face and placed the cap gently on her head. He stood back, considering. “There. Yes Lizzie, that does it.” _It_ being something that didn’t bear too close consideration. Red hadn’t quite thought the entire outfit through to the point where she’d actually be standing there, inches away, regarding him with that unnerving gaze that went straight to his heart. He was used to seeing her dressed more formally, or on too rare an occasion with much less on overall. ( _That red dress!)_ It was different seeing her like this, and he felt closer to her, in some way. She was less distant, more raw. He reminded himself to stay focused.

  


She grinned. “Where’s yours?” If he didn’t know better he’d say she was teasing him. 

  


“Perhaps we’ll share.” His voice was low. They were still standing so close. Lizzie’s eyes flashed something quickly – curiosity? Wariness? God, he hoped it wasn’t fear. He took a small step away, smiled gently and gestured to the door. “Shall we?” She nodded quickly, and they headed out. 

  


\- 

  


As they drove, Red was highly aware of Lizzie’s proximity to him. She wasn’t saying much, just quietly looking out the window. He felt a sharp pang when he thought of what she’d become involved in, because of him. All the while he had been protecting her, and the safest thing he could have done for her would have been to have never gotten involved in her life in the first place. Yet now that he had– 

  


Lizzie fiddled with the ball cap, tucking loose strands of her hair back up underneath it. She took a sideways glance at Red, then placed a hand gently on his knee. “Thank you Red.”

  


“What for?” he tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice. His knee felt very warm, and she hadn’t moved her hand away. He kept his eyes on the road, just able to make out her shape in his peripheral vision.

  


“For saving me. Again.” She squeezed his knee. “I don’t think anyone has ever done that for me. Especially not over and over again. It’s – nice.”

  


His breath caught in his throat. Nice. It was so much more than that, but nice would do, for now. “You’re – welcome Lizzie.” He let one hand leave the wheel, coming to rest on top of hers. When she didn’t flinch or move hers away, he looked toward her for a moment. She smiled, and his world tilted on its axis. As his gaze returned to the road, he smiled as well. _You’re always welcome._


	2. Middles

They had been driving for some time, and the sky had gone dark. Lizzie’s head was resting gently on Red’s shoulder, her eyes closed. He thought that he would be hard pressed to think of anywhere else in the world he’d rather be. 

  


When they’d reached their next stop-over, Red gave Lizzie a nudge with his shoulder. Her eyes opened, and she yawned. “We’ve arrived, Lizzie.” She nodded, straightened up in her seat. The hat had come off at some point during the drive, and she put it back on before opening her door. Red watched her brush her hair away from her neck and pull the hoodie up for warmth. He found it hard to refrain from reaching over and placing his warm hands on her shoulders. Instead, getting out of the car, he handed her his scarf.

  


“Thank you.” She wrapped it around her neck; smiled sweetly. She reached out and touched his arm, and he regarded her, eyes unreadable. “Let’s get inside, Lizzie.” 

  


-

  


Their room was smaller than the last one. One double bed, a couch, and a small chest of drawers. Lizzie walked over to the chest of drawers, and placed the ball cap, scarf and glasses atop it. “I can take the couch,” she offered, “You’ve got longer legs.” 

  


Red glanced over at her quickly, trying to see if she was teasing him. Her grin seemed to say so, but he worried that she was just trying to make the best of a bad situation. “No Lizzie, you can take the bed.” 

  


“We could share,” she said, echoing his words about the hat. Her face was open, innocent. He swallowed. “You’d better take the bed. I’ve never met a couch I couldn’t fall asleep on.”

  


She smiled, shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t offer. Mind if I use the shower first?”

  


She was already halfway into the bathroom. Red tried not to let his gaze give him away. He wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded. “It’s all yours, Lizzie.”

  


He sat on the couch and waited for her to finish in the bathroom. _We could share_ echoed tauntingly in his mind. He found it difficult not to spiral into a fantasy of precisely that situation. Lord knows he’d thought about it, continued to think about it. He tried focusing on his surroundings, his eye resting on the objects around him. Couch. Rug. Chest of drawers. Bed. _Bed._

  


He shook his head lightly. The water was still running in the shower, so he quickly got changed out of his clothes and into a t-shirt and soft, striped pajama pants. Hardly the most suave outfit he’d owned, but suitable for sleeping on a couch, he figured. He was considering whether he could feign having fallen asleep when the bathroom door opened. 

  


Lizzie walked out, a light mist of steam following. She was wearing a bathtowel, with one wrapped turban-style around her head. She stepped lightly over to her bag, rummaging through to find pajamas. “All done in there if you’d like a turn,” she said.

  


Pulling out a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, she glanced over and noticed Red’s change of clothes. “I used to think you slept in your suits,” she said with a smile. His tongue rolled in his cheek and he smiled. “I’m flattered you spent time considering what I wore to bed, Lizzie.”

  


She looked surprised, but pleased that he was taking a joking tone with her again. 

  


He stood up, still smiling. “I’ll just be a minute,” and headed into the bathroom. 

  


When he came back out, Lizzie was tucked in bed but still had her eyes open. He noticed her gaze follow him to the couch, where he tucked his feet up and pulled a blanket up over himself. She  reached over to the bedside lamp and switched it off.

  


“Goodnight Lizzie.” His voice was low. 

  


“Goodnight Red.”

  


-

  


It was sometime in the middle of the night when Red woke to what he quickly deciphered was a quiet sobbing. Lizzie had her face pressed into her pillow, but he could hear muffled crying and an occasional sniff. 

  


“Lizzie,” he whispered, wondering if it would have been better to have pretended not to hear her.

  


_Sniff._

  


“Lizzie.” His body stiffened, straining to hear her reply.

  


“… Yes?”

  


He relaxed a tiny bit. He wanted to leap off of the couch and take her in his arms. Instead, he paused, considering how best to continue.

  


“Are you hungry?”

  


“… What?”

  


“Hungry. Do you want something to eat?”

  


He thought he could hear her face peeling away from the pillow. “What?”  
  
He continued to speak in a low voice. “I just thought you sounded hungry. And I realized we hadn’t eaten anything since this afternoon.”

  


He thought she might be smiling now, the tiniest bit. “What, no. No I’m not hungry Red.”

  


“Are you sure? I think that actually I might be a bit peckish.”

  


“Yes, Red. I’m sure…”

  


“Alright Lizzie. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” 

  


“No… I won’t.”

  


He heard her blow her nose and settle back down into her pillow. His body relaxed and he forced himself to unclench his hands from the fists they had gone into. If he had managed to make her smile, he’d done enough. He had just rested his head back on his own pillow when he heard her clear her throat gently.

  


“Red.”

  


“Yes, Lizzie?”

  


“… Thank you.”

  


His eyes closed softly. He wished he could thank her, as well, but he didn’t know how to even begin. “Sleep well, my– …Lizzie.” 


	3. Endings

The next night; the next motel. Twin beds, the space between them simultaneously three feet and infinity.

  


“Goodnight Red.”  
  


“Goodnight Lizzie.”

  


And this time Red was not woken by any sounds of sobbing, he just found himself unable to fall asleep. He tried rolling from his left to his right side. He tried remaining very still, trying to focus on his breathing. He tried –

  


“…Red?”

  


“Lizzie.” He surprised himself with how raw his voice sounded. There was a long pause. If she didn’t say anything he would have to. He hated thinking that she was also having trouble sleeping. He liked to think that she felt safe enough in his presence to rest easily, but knew that their situation was hard on both of them, for different reasons. He chewed his cheek, trying to think of what to say. Then-

  


“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Her voice sounded small, though it was just feet away. In the dark it was hard to tell, but he thought she was facing him. 

  


“Are you sure?”

  


“Yes.”

  


He waited a long time and she didn’t say anything else. Turning to face the wall, he sighed softly, knowing he likely wouldn’t be getting any sleep. 

  


\- 

  


The next night; back to the couch situation. Lizzie offered again to take the couch, which this time was in fact a bit too short for his height. He refused.

  


“Goodnight Red.”

  


“Sleep well, Lizzie.”

  


“… I’m not sure I can sleep, actually.”

  


“Would you prefer to get up?”

  


“No, I- …”

  


“Yes?”

  


“Nothing. Red, let’s just talk for a bit, can we? Just lay here and talk. I just need–” He found himself holding his breath. “ –to be distracted by something.”

  


He turned so he was resting on his side facing the bed, head propped slightly on an arm. “Of course. What about?”

  


“Just anything. Anything.” She sounded pleading, like she was banking everything she had on him. He figured this was one thing he could handle, telling stories, filling the emptiness. 

  


“Mm. Did I ever tell you about the time I was arrested in Bhutan for impersonating British Royalty?”

  


-

  


At long last they reached the safe house, a cabin in Vermont with the basic amenities and two bedrooms. They’d both become used to the pattern of not getting much sleep, him telling lengthy and inane tales long into the night. The separate bedrooms would put an end to that.

  


“Do you have everything you need, Lizzie?” He was standing in the doorway of her room, not wanting to leave her. She glanced around. “I should be okay.” He wondered if she used that word on purpose – _should-_ implying that she may not be. He hesitated. “If you need anything-” 

  


“I know.”

  


He nodded briefly, leaving the room and a piece of his heart behind him. He considered staying up for a while with a book and some scotch, but realized he needed less – not more – stimulation if he was ever to be expected to get any sleep. Maybe he would just sit down for a moment before heading into his bedroom. He tried not to think too hard about why he had such an aversion to going in there, to the lone bed, the empty darkness. Though the two of them hadn’t been sharing a bed, they’d been sharing close sleeping quarters for the past several nights and he’d become used to knowing that she was in the same room. 

  


He sat down on the couch, with only the light from a small table lamp left on. He sat there for a long while, letting his thoughts come and go as they would. More often than not, they were of Lizzie. Of protecting her, keeping her safe. But also, of – well. That wasn’t helping things. At this rate he’d never get a wink of sleep again. 

  


From down the hall, he heard something. A moment later, Lizzie was standing at the end of the hallway, hesitating. He noticed she was wearing his t-shirt and his chest felt like it was caving in. He crossed and uncrossed his legs.

  


She still didn’t say anything. The light from the lamp glinted in her eyes. Red shifted slightly on the couch, tilting his head in an invitation for her to join him there. “Come here, Lizzie.”

  


She walked over to him, and his breath caught slightly when she chose to sit right beside him, leaving no space between them. She gently leaned into him and, after a brief pause, Red placed an arm around her shoulder. She let out a sigh, closed her eyes. 

  


“My t-shirt,” Red said softly, observing the slight curve of her lips at this remark.

  


“It was in my bag, and it looked comfortable. Nothing wrong with that,” she mumbled, perhaps trying to convince the both of them.

  


“I hadn’t quite imagined – what it would look like – with you in it,” he finished off helplessly. 

  


“Good?” she whispered, eyes still closed.

  


He took a breath, closing his eyes briefly as well. His voice when he spoke was very deep, sensual even. “Very good, Lizzie.”

  


He felt, rather than saw her smile for real, then. She seemed to shift closer into the side of his body. He felt that this was the most important thing that had ever happened to him, Lizzie shifting closer towards him. His fingers brushed her shoulder and arm so lightly he thought she might not notice. Lizzie had worn his t-shirt to bed, and then moved to lean closer into him. 

  


“Red?” she whispered, and sat up slightly to face him. “Would you look at me, please?”

  


He obliged, meeting her open gaze with his. He was afraid that, even in the dim light, she’d be able to see his thoughts. He waited for her to say something.

  


“I just wanted you to know that-” she closed her eyes briefly again, as if summoning some additional courage, then looked straight at him. “I – love you, Red.” She let out the breath she’d apparently been holding, but her gaze didn’t waver from his.

  


Red was having trouble processing what had just happened. He was still caught up on Lizzie-wearing-his-t-shirt-and-moving-closer-to-him and then… she had… said… _I love you Red_? He wondered briefly if he was dreaming. If he had fallen asleep on the couch without noticing, and – but even Dream Lizzie had never said those words. He hadn’t ever dared to dream that. So what – what was happening?

  


  


“Red? … _Red.”_ He realized he’d been silent for longer than he should have. Lizzie was looking at him expectantly, and he saw suddenly that the shine in her eyes did have the semblance of – but that would mean – and how could – 

  


She was smiling now, correctly reading into his silence not as rejection, but as confirmation. He opened his mouth and was unsure of whether he remembered how to string words together. His brain was having quite the time forming coherent thoughts. Lizzie reached out and her fingers hovered lightly above his shoulder. “Do you… Red, do you –?”

  


Finally some connection fired in his brain. “Lizzie. God, yes. _”_ Her smile widened, brows arching. 

  


“Was it the t-shirt? Because if I’d known, I’d have put it on a lot earl–” she found herself unable to finish her thought as Red’s mouth covered hers in a delicious kiss. To his relief (and hers) his brain had managed to retain that skill quite well, despite his inability to form a sentence. It was a long moment before they drew apart. And then–

  


“Red. Come to bed, please.”

  


“With pleasure, Lizzie.”


	4. Morning Afters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am missing Red and Lizzie flirting on the show so much, I just really wanted to write some more. I think I'll keep going a bit longer with this one :) Season 3 on-the-run was so fun to watch, and so fun to write.

And suddenly it was morning. Lizzie was wrapped in Red's arms and Red was wrapped in Lizzie's legs and the sunlight was peeking through the curtains where they didn't quite meet up. Two can fit in a twin bed, if they've got enough determination. And they had.

 

“Mmf.” it was Lizzie, trying to roll her head to one side without rolling her entire body and falling off the edge of the bed. She felt Red shift slightly to allow her head some space.

 

“Good morning, Lizzie.”

 

“Mmm,” she smiled, partly into the pillow and partly into a delicious area of Red's chest. Her body felt like she'd run a race (or what she assumed that would feel like, running being something she did for fun, and not for any great length of time). It also felt like it was contorted into a strange shape as though she intended to take up a very particularly sized piece of space. It also felt amazing.

 

“Your morning conversation seems to be a bit... lacking. Any particular reason?” She could tell he was smiling, of course he was.

 

She squeezed her eyes closed and snuggled deeper into the bed, into his embrace. Words were overrated.

 

“Mm,” he echoed, his lips finding the top of her head, her ear, and shoulder. Lizzie let out a tiny sigh, then murmured something he couldn't quite make out. “Hmm?”

 

“Coffee.”

 

He laughed, that short, sharp “ha!” that made her grin, held her a bit tighter for a moment, then squeezed her gently. “Are you offering to get up?” Her face left no room for misinterpretation. “Really, Lizzie- are you suggesting the FBI's number one most wanted criminal is fit for nothing better than making morning coffee? I shudder to think what the number two most wanted is good for.”

 

“Coffee, _please_?” her expression changed, and Red was helpless. He made note of this for later: Lizzie-in-the-morning was a dangerous thing. One might agree to almost anything if she-- he swallowed, watching her stretch lazily as he moved to get up out of bed.

 

Lizzie half-opened one eye, observing him seated on the edge of the tiny bed, pulling on his pajama pants. He left his t-shirt – she noted this with pleasure and smiled a tiny smile of victory when he walked over to the coffeemaker on the chest of drawers. She waited to make sure he was turning it on before reaching over and taking the t-shirt. There was no way she was letting him have that back, now.

 


	5. Keeping you safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thank you for reading, and for prompting me to write more of this one :) I love getting nostalgic about Red & Lizzie on the run back in S3.

Breakfast was strange. Not awkward strange, just – different. After drinking their coffee, they had made their way into the tiny kitchen, finding that there was a carton of eggs in the fridge and some bread to toast. Somehow Lizzie knew that Red would make excellent scrambled eggs, and she was right. He'd cooked breakfast before, and of course they'd been eating every meal together these last few days, but this was the first time since-- the first time.

 

Lizzie found herself at a loss for words, so she sat on a kitchen stool and watched him scramble the eggs. (“The trick Lizzie is to add just a few tablespoons of cream. Makes all the difference, you'll see.”)

She let him set a plate down in front of her and gave him a shy smile. He felt grateful for the second stool's support.

 

“So.”

 

“So, Lizzie.”

 

“I wasn't kidding about what I said last night.” She took a forkful of eggs, met his eyes and smiled again as she tasted them.

 

“Neither was I.” He crunched a bite of toast, gaze not wavering from hers.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But-...”

 

His gaze grew concerned. But? He knew he didn't deserve this, could never deserve it but still- he'd hoped it wouldn't be taken from him this quickly. He took a nervous sip of orange juice, waiting for the bad news.

 

“ _But_ ,” Lizzie continued, “Where does this leave us? I'm still a convicted criminal on the run, and you're still-- you're still you. We can't possibly stay here forever, but where else can we go?”

 

“All in good time, Lizzie. A plan is in motion.” She waited, but it appeared that was all he was offering.

 

“In motion? But what does that mean, Red? How is it in motion? We've been moving from place to place but I haven't seen you meeting with anybody. Do you really have a plan?” She knew she sounded desperate, but in the flat morning light she was starting to get nervous again. How were they ever to escape this life on the run?

 

“Lizzie. I have always held your safety as my highest priority. Keeping you safe, keeping you well, has been my only object. And I intend to make sure you are able to return to your job at the FBI, and in order to do that you have to be patient. _We_ have to be patient. For the next few weeks, it's imperative that we remain out of sight.” His gaze seemed to rest upon her long enough for him to notice something, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

 

Lizzie raised an eyebrow.

 

“You're welcome to keep it.”

 

“...To keep-?”

 

Red tilted his head toward her and Lizzie realized she was wearing his t-shirt again. She felt her cheeks warm.

 

“This afternoon I do have to meet with someone, Lizzie. Dembe arranged it, he just let me know when and where. You'll have to wait here.” He noticed her start to protest, waved it away. “It will only take a couple of hours at most. I'm sorry Lizzie.”

 

She nodded. “I guess this is what I signed up for. Just-” she looked at him, “- Red, stay safe. Okay?” Her meaning was clear: _stay safe for_ me _, because I couldn't handle losing you now._

 

Red's heart tightened at the knowledge that she cared about him. He mustered up a smile. “And you Lizzie.”

 

–

 

Later that afternoon, Lizzie paced the kitchen. _A couple of hours at most_ , he had said. It had been three and a half. Three was a few, three and a half was approaching _several_. She was holding a cell phone Red had handed her before heading out: for emergencies, he'd said. Was this an emergency? Not really – it was just old anxious patterns of hers cropping up. It was just an opportunity for her to practice relaxing. It was just--

 

- _Lizzie_

 

She almost dropped the phone as it buzzed to notify a text message. Red was texting her?

 

- _Sorry I'm late_

 

Red was _apologizing_ to her?

 

- _Dembe thought you'd be worried_

 

She grinned with relief and wrote back.

 

-I was!

 

It was a moment before he replied.

 

- _No need. All is well Lizzie._

She could hear his voice saying her name as she read the text, and a warm feeling arose in her chest where the anxiety had been.

 

-I'm glad

 

- _I'll see you very soon_

 

Lizzie set the phone on the table, relieved. Of late she'd found herself trying to get used to the fact that her heart was no longer just her own. It was hard enough to admit that, harder still that the person her heart now belonged to happened to be FBI's number one most wanted. She kept trying to convince herself that everything would be fine, but there was a part of her that needed reassurance, and she feared what might happen if she didn't get it.

 

The phone buzzed once more.

 

- _I'm bringing dinner. And wine._

 

She shook her head, smiling. Maybe she didn't have to worry quite so much.


	6. Tell me something

Reddington glanced at the phone before placing it in his pocket. _I was._ She worried about him. It both touched his heart and wrenched it, to know that Lizzie cared for him that much. It was such a new thing, a beautiful thing. If his primary function was keeping her safe, his secondary one was ensuring she didn't have to worry unnecessarily. If he could spare her any of the same pain he himself felt, leaving her- he would have succeeded.

 

“How is Elizabeth?”

 

Red glanced over at Dembe. “She was worried. You were right.”

 

Dembe nodded. He'd known this already. “But she is safe? For now? And you have told her-?”

 

“Yes.” No further explanation was needed, between the two of them.

 

“That is good, Raymond. She is good for you.”

 

Red tilted his head. “She's...” he searched for the right word, he who was usually a master of words, suddenly at a loss. “... indispensable to me.” He pursed his lips, shook his head slightly, bringing himself back to the task at hand. “I told her I would bring back dinner. And wine. There must be someplace we can find something better than gas-station sandwiches.”

 

Dembe smiled. “Yes Raymond. I know a place.”

 

–

 

He approached the door to the cabin, bottle of wine and bag of groceries in hand. As soon as his hand touched the door it opened, and Lizzie was standing there, looking glorious and also slightly worried. She stepped over to him and quickly enfolded him in an embrace, bags and bottle included.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes! Yes, it's fine. I just --” she released her hold quickly, brushed some hair away from her forehead behind an ear. “ I just got a bit nervous. But I'm fine! Really,” she asserted, seeing his concern. “How's Dembe?”

 

“He's well, Lizzie.” Red placed the bag and bottle down on the floor, and moved closer until his hands rested on either of her shoulders. “I'm sorry I took longer than expected. But everything went incredibly smoothly.” He watched her expression soften from worry to relief.

 

“I may have slightly over-promised when I said I'd bring dinner, Lizzie– I brought the _ingredients_ for dinner. To my complete dismay the takeout options nearby are incredibly limited. But I did find some wine.” He gestured to the bottle, hoping this made up for even a small part of the worry he'd caused.

 

Lizzie smiled. “I am a terrible cook. I hope you appreciate that about me. But I'm wonderful at enjoying meals cooked by others.”

 

He laughed. “Hint taken, Lizzie. And I appreciate everything about you.”

 

Her smile widened, and he followed her into the kitchen with his bag of groceries.

 

–

 

Later that night, they sat finishing the last of the wine, enjoying each others' company. Red was trying not to stare too hard at Lizzie, but he wasn't entirely succeeding.

 

“Tell me something about yourself,” she said suddenly. “Something I don't know.”

 

He hesitated, tipped his glass first one way, then the other, examining it. Lizzie inched closer to him, placing a hand on his knee, hoping to gently encourage him. This caused him to have trouble concentrating, but he equally didn't want her to move, so he tried focusing on her other hand which was playing with a strand of hair near her cheek.

 

“Why don't you tell me something about myself, Lizzie- I seem to remember you had quite a precise profile on me at one time.”

 

“Oh no, you're not getting out of this Red. I asked _you_ to tell me something.”

 

He paused again. “Very well. When I was about ten, I decided I wanted to be a boxer. I practiced with an old set of boxing gloves I found in a neighbor's garage. But I never fought a single boxing match with anyone other than my imaginary opponents.” He curled his tongue in his cheek, shook his head slightly. “When I got older, I kept up boxing practice, but never competitively. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like, doing that.”

 

He looked at Lizzie, gauging her reaction. She smiled. “I thought you'd always wanted to be a ship's captain.”

 

“That was later. Aged ten, I thought being a boxer was the most exciting life imaginable.” He chuckled. “Isn't that funny, craving excitement. Now the things I want most are calm, and mundane.”

 

“When I was ten, I wanted to be a ballerina. Or an equestrian.”

 

“Did you take lessons? In either?”

 

Lizzie shook her head. “No. And - I'm afraid of horses,” she finished, embarrassed. “They're beautiful, but terrifying. I've never ridden.”

 

“Would you like to? One day, I mean.”

 

She half-smiled. “Do you have a farm with horses somewhere that I don't know about?”

 

“I have plenty of places that you don't know about, Lizzie. But one day, I'd love to show them all to you.”

 

She curled her legs up on the couch, leaning in to him. “I'd love to hear more about these places, Red.”

 


	7. I would take that chance

They had grown rather accustomed to this oddly domestic life. When it came time to leave the safe house, Lizzie felt actual disappointment at the thought of going back to 'regular' life. So it was with reluctance that she packed her bag, making sure to fold Red's (stolen) t-shirt up tightly and placing it underneath her own clothing, as if he was likely to demand it back once they returned. She must have been frowning, or acting sulky in some other way because Red picked up on her change in energy quickly.

 

“What's the matter, Lizzie?”

 

_Everything. I don't want to leave this cabin. I don't want to go back to just being Elizabeth Keen, FBI agent, and Raymond Reddington, concierge of crime. I want to keep being Lizzie and Red. I'm worried about what happens when we get back._

 

“I just... I'm worried I guess.” She zipped up her bag.

 

“About...?” Red tilted his head, concerned.

 

She paused. _Why can't you just read my mind, damn it._ “About what will happen when we get back.”

 

“You'll be reinstated as an agent as soon as Cooper can sign the papers. And then everything will be back to normal. Status quo.” His tone was reassuring, and she tried reminding herself it was what she wanted, what she had _thought_ she wanted. Before... well, before.

 

“I know. I _know_ , I just don't want--”

 

He watched her fumbling for words.

 

“-- I don't want to go back to how we were before. Only seeing each other for work. Only talking about Blacklisters.” _Well, there. No need to read her mind, then._

 

“Lizzie. _Elizabeth,”_ he said softly.

 

She met his eyes briefly, and looked back at her bag, at anything other than him. She was strangely embarrassed discussing her feelings, and she worried that he'd try to convince her that what happened between them was just an effect of their being on the run together, that it would never work back in the real world.

 

“Has it occurred to you that I feel the same way?” He paused, waited for her reaction. She set her bag down on the floor gently, still not meeting his eyes. “I would gladly go back to the way things were Lizzie, if that was the only chance I had to see you. I'd do that in a heartbeat. But if there was a chance, however slim, that you --” his voice broke a bit, and he shook his head with a slight smile, “that you and I could have, could _be_ more... I would take that chance.”

 

Lizzie closed her eyes briefly, holding his words close. “So would I.”

 

“It's settled then. No going back, just going home.”

 

 _Home._ “Yes. I'd like that, Red.” She picked up her bag from the floor.

 

“Ready, Lizzie?”

 

She took his arm in hers, smiling. “Ready.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this small fic, thanks for sticking around! I'm hoping to start something new soon... goodness knows we need it ;)


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